


Your Secret's Safe With Me

by tinarennat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Coming Out, Confessions, Draco's kind of nice, Drarropoly: A Drarry Game/Fest, Ghosts, M/M, Necromancy, POV Draco Malfoy, Potions, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:07:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27779602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinarennat/pseuds/tinarennat
Summary: When Draco finds out Nearly Headless Nick is just as lonely as he is, Draco feels obliged to help. Little does he know that Nick is bringing Harry Potter to help out. A short story about love, secrets, potion brewing, and moving on.Drarropoly Prompt:Either include Nearly-Headless Nick OR include a theme of wanting to belong in your story.+ Include this phrase: "You never tell me anything." + Include flashbacks in your story.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Pansy Parkinson/Blaise Zabini
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37
Collections: Drarropoly '20: Founders Edition





	Your Secret's Safe With Me

“You never tell me anything,” Draco pouted at Blaise who was currently ignoring Draco, as usual, and marching straight ahead in the corridor. Draco crossed his arms and stopped still in protest. Pansy looked behind and rolled her eyes at him before continuing with Blaise. Draco waited a moment and realizing his friends wouldn’t give him any more attention, reluctantly jogged up to them.

“How do you put up with him, Pans?” Draco scowled. 

“It’s because she loves me,” Blaise said with his usual shit-eating grin and wrapped Pansy’s arms around his shoulders. She laughed and jumped up onto his back. “Piggyback ride?” She flashed puppy eyes. “Disgusting,” Draco muttered and walked silently beside the two. 

“You won’t regret this, Draco,” Blaise said after a couple of paces. “I know how much you love networking.”

“Once again, Blaise, you fill me with much dread. There’s no such thing as  _ networking _ in a castle of unqualified professors who failed to attain more prestigious professions, and even worse, students.”

“You’re worse than my great-uncle,” Pansy shuddered, “Soon you’ll be shouting at me to get off your lawn.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to get off my singular lawn, Pans, I have 26, you know that.” 

“ \-- You’re incorrigible, Draco.”

They arrived at the dungeons, and Blaise swiftly navigated the corridors, leading them to a large hall. Draco gagged at the smell of rancid food. As he walked into the hall, he batted a fly away and looked furiously at Blaise. Pansy didn’t even seem bothered. She was too distracted with the whole being in love thing. The hall was full of ghosts gliding around. A quartet of headless phantoms plucked at invisible strings. To his left were transparent men in black robes draping onto the floor. In the center of the room were dancers, old Victorian ghosts in proper coats and stuffy petticoats, swirling around and gliding through the furniture in the way.

“What the hell,” Draco hissed under his breath, “And I mean that literally, Blaise. We are surrounded by dead people. This is the closest we’ll ever get to experiencing _ hell _ until we get there for real.”

“Oh, relax,  _ Malfoy _ ,” Blaise hissed back, and Draco stiffened. Blaise only used his surname when he was properly annoyed. “This is a professional event. And I was personally invited, so if you’re scared, you can piss off now.”

“How did you even get invited to a ghost jamboree? Did Peeves sling an RSVP card towards you along with the usual dung?”

“The Bloody Baron knows my father. It’s basically a networking event, it’s a dance. You talk to people when you dance.”

“Well, they’re ghosts, not people,” Draco sneered, “But very astute observation, Blaise.”

Pansy hopped off his back and extended a hand. “Mr. Zabini,” she giggled, “I believe you owe me a dance.”

Blaise took her hand and spun her into an embrace, leading her towards the center of the room, circling elegantly.. Draco stood still at the entrance, alone again.

“Great job, Draco, stellar job at being a third wheel again. I wish I had friends that made me feel like I belonged,” Draco spat at the ground angrily.

“I know what it’s like to want to belong,” he heard a deep voice say. Draco jumped back in alarm. Looking up, he saw the familiar visage of Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor house ghost. His appearance verged on comedic, with his oversized mustache and head that sprung off cartoonishly.

Draco continued to back away. “Look, I’m sure you do,” he said nervously, “but frankly, I’m not in the mood for a therapy session tonight. Especially not with you. I didn’t even want to come here, but I certainly don’t want to spend this painful experience with a Gryffindor.”

“Sometimes, belonging is about bravery. I’ve always wanted to join the Headless Hunt, but for centuries, I couldn’t muster up the courage to apply. They were so elite, you know?”

Draco didn’t know. “Bravery is for fools.”

“Ah, perhaps you are right. I ended up being rejected. Apparently, a  _ sliver _ of skin that only very slightly connects my head to my neck disqualifies me! I wish I could come back to life if only to tell my damn executioner to finish the job right.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Draco said stiffly.

“Do you care for a dance?” Nearly Headless Nick asked. Draco considered his two options. One was to run away and get murdered by Blaise later. The other, well… Draco hated himself as he shrugged. “Alright. It can’t be the worst thing I’ll have to do this year.”

As the string quartet screeched, Nick pulled Draco into a very awkwardly cold waltz. “It occurs to me that ghost-human dancing is not that easy.”

“Oh, don’t remind me,” Nick said as they tried to waltz in time with each other. Draco was oddly thankful for his mother’s compulsory ballroom dance lessons.

“You know, the last time humans came to one of these events was two years ago. That young Harry Potter and his friends, the Weasley, and the girl with the hair. They would be in your year,” Nick noted.

“How do you know my name and not the Gryffindors’?” Draco wondered. Of course, Draco was a more prominent person, well, aside from Potter, but this was the Gryffindor ghost.

“Your father was a royal pain in my ass. And you are the spitting image of him.” Draco straightened up; he was a bit proud of his father. And then he felt ashamed of what Lucius would say if he saw Draco spinning around with the Gryffindor ghost. 

“Why was Potter here?” Curiosity always got the best of Draco.

“He was attending my Deathday Party! I naively thought that he might be enough to convince the Headless Hunt to accept me. Unfortunately - well, I already told you how they mercilessly rejected me.”

“That you did.”

They danced silently, gliding around the ballroom. Fortunately, Blaise and Pansy were too busy being in love to notice Draco.

“You could’ve done better than Potter,” Draco said eventually.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, a twelve-year-old who barely even knows that he’s a wizard wouldn’t be capable of convincing a traditional magical association of anyone’s worth. He didn’t know what was proper or persuasive. He still doesn’t.”

“I thought, perhaps, his legacy would help me. Knowing a celebrity is very impressive, you know.”

“Potter is incorrigible, no wonder they weren’t impressed. It’s okay, Gryffindors like yourselves tend to lack a bit in the brains department. I wonder if they damaged yours with the whole beheading incident.”

Nearly Headless Nick tilted his head, frowning, and it hung off his neck by the little sliver of flesh.

“Ewww,” Draco flinched. “Put it back.”

“Well, if Harry Potter couldn’t convince them, I’m afraid I must be resigned to my fate.”

“No, _ no _ ,” Draco couldn’t believe he was saying this. “I might not have real friends and my life might be shite, but yours doesn’t have to be. You were wrong to trust Potter. Apply to the Headless Hunt again. I’ll help you succeed.”

“If you say so, Mr. Malfoy,” Nick raised an eyebrow. Merlin, they were so  _ bushy _ .

He could hear the wheezes from Pansy’s stupid pig snout of a nose. “Draco’s dancing with a ghost! Blaise, look!”

Draco walked away from Nick, shooting him an apologetic look. “Shut your trap, Pansy. It’s not like I could dance with either of you two. Besides,” he smiled patronizingly at Blaise, “I was  _ networking _ .”

“Did you get his business card?” Blaise smiled back, with a terribly forced grin.

“Oh better, my dear Blaise. I got his  _ business _ ,” Draco winked, and headed to the entrance. “Excuse me, I’m just off to the loo to vomit. How do you stand the smell of melting corpses, my darling companions?”

The next day, Draco was in the great hall, eating porridge for breakfast. Blaise and Pansy were snogging. Snape was trying to avoid eye contact with the entire table. So, in other words, a normal Sunday morning. Well, except that Nearly Headless Nick was drifting, as fast as a ghost could, over to Draco.

“Mr. Malfoy,” he said, and Draco jumped in his seat.

“Mr. Ghost, sir, uh, why do you have to do this in public?”

“I didn’t know where to find you! I’ve got everything set up for our plan. Meet in Classroom 59B at eight.”

“We have a plan?” Draco raised an eyebrow and glanced nervously at the Bloody Baron, who was gliding over rather quickly.

“Well of course we have a plan. You’re going to get the Headless Hunt to accept me. It’ll be better than last time, because, well, three heads are better than two.”

At that moment, the Baron came over, glaring furiously at Nick, who hurried away.

“No – Sir Nicholas, wait! Who’s the third head?” Draco called out frantically, but it was too late.

What could Draco do? At quarter to eight, Draco made his way down to the dungeons.

What should Draco have even expected, going into Classroom 59B that evening, but a specky git with unbrushed hair and unfitted robes sitting on a desk and talking with Nearly Headless Nick.

He started walking backwards very quickly — there was no way he was going to voluntarily be in this situation — until his back hit the door. Why was it closed? Draco flashed back to when his father would lock him in his room and punish him, over and over again. His body stiffened against the door.

“Alohomora,” he muttered under his breath. Maybe he could escape while the bloody Gryffindors were distracted. The door wasn’t opening. Draco knew, because his back was still pressed against the cold wood of the door and it was certainly not swinging open. It must be ghost magic. Damn it, he never should’ve offered to help. So much for networking.

“A deal is a deal, Mr. Malfoy. I thought I made it clear earlier that the Headless Hunt won’t consider my application without Harry’s assistance. And we discussed how perhaps Mr. Potter was too young as a second year to prove useful, but now….”

Draco very intently tried to keep a serious face. “Potter,” he frowned, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“Malfoy  _ what the hell _ ,” Potter mouthed at him before smiling sickly at Nick and said quickly, “I’m just not sure that they’d change their mind about your application. I’m sure Malfoy is just using you for a nefarious plot, he probably doesn’t have a plan to help you.” Damn. Malfoy knew Potter was an idiot, but he didn’t know he was heartless too. The ghost had been dead and sad for over 500 years.

“Oy! I have a plan to help. Unlike you, Potter. What, you just stood there and smiled at the committee, expecting that to work? Everything always gets handed to you, Scarhead. You don’t understand the plight of everyone else.”

“I was just a kid! Why would I have a plan?” Potter yelled. All he could see when Potter was this angry were his eyes. Whenever Potter got upset, his eyes always flashed the darkest shade of green. His mind always flashed back to when they were both eleven. Sticking his hand out towards Potter. Hearing Potter’s voice echo in his mind, “I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks.”

“I don’t know, you had a plan when you rejected my friendship. You rejected me.”

Potter rolled his eyes. “Way to be a drama queen, Malfoy. Why don’t you share your genius plan to help the  _ Gryffindor House Ghost _ , and then maybe I’ll reconsider.”

“Well, okay. Potter, you never paid attention in potions, but there’s a highly advanced potion that brings back a small part of an undead spirit to corporeal flesh. We could bring back his neck, cut it off properly, and then he’ll be dead again and completely headless.”

“I don’t know about that,” Potter said, of course, distrusting Draco’s genius plans as usual. “I may not know much about potions, but I’m pretty decent at Defence. From what I’ve seen, necromancy never turns out well. Also, I’m pretty sure that potion’s illegal.”

“My father is a governor. The legality of the potion really isn’t important,” Draco smirked.

“Are you okay with this, Sir Nicholas? I can’t believe you brought me here with Malfoy, so he could try and convince you to become a criminal? Why am I even here?”

“I think Mr. Malfoy makes an excellent suggestion.”

“Can I leave now?” Potter edged towards the door.

“No,” Nick said, and Draco laughed.

“So, Mr. Malfoy, which ingredients will you be needing for the potion?”

“It’s a fairly simple recipe, actually,” Draco pulled on his robe, “Only three ingredients, one of which requires two people. Dragon water, which I can borrow from Professor Snape; gilded tongues, which my father has in his private collection; and heart essence, which is the tricky part. I know how to collect it, but I need a willing participant with an alive heart.”

“I’m sorry, I cannot assist you. My heart is very much not alive.” Nick and Draco turned to stare at Potter.

“Wait,” Potter started, “I’m not a willing participant. Can’t you ask one of your Slytherin cronies to help you out?”

“I’m not confessing to my Slytherin  _ friends _ who would easily hold this information against me,” Draco laughed at the audacity of the suggestion. “There’re very few potions that need heart essence and all of them aren’t exactly  _ legal _ . I need someone with a noble enough heart that they’ll feel too bad to snitch.”

“Fine! I’m already here, let’s just get this over with, Malfoy.”

“No,” Draco said, “I need equipment. Meet me here tomorrow at the same time?”

“As long as Nick is still here,” Potter muttered, “I’m still suspicious of all of this.”

“I’m not sure you want him there,” Draco responded, “Sure. Whatever you want Potter. Lay your heart bare in front of a ghost.”

The next day, Draco was early, with his equipment. Nick glided through the wall at eight, and Draco hardly looked up from his preparations.

Five minutes later, Potter showed up. “Let’s get this over with,” he said as he barged in.

“Okay.” Draco said. This wasn’t going to be pleasant. “So, heart essence is an essence of your heart.”

“Great explanation,” Potter muttered. 

“Shut it,” Draco said and moved on, “Take your shirt off, I won’t bother explaining if you won’t listen.”

“Excuse me?”

“I can’t prepare your heart with your shirt on, okay? Just do it,” Draco looked resolutely at the ground.

“Okay,” Potter grinned, “Maybe you just want a glimpse of all of this,” he slowly took the shirt off, making faces at Draco.

“Real classy,” Draco quipped, but Potter was in shape. Pansy would probably call him fit. Well, he was fit. Fit on the outside, which was okay to admit. Certainly not fit on the inside.

“I’m listening.” Potter sat on a desk, his shirt tossed on the floor. Merlin, he was so casual about how attractive he was. How come Potter didn’t have a girlfriend?

“ I have this salve, which will numb your skin when I cut it open to the heart. It will freeze your nerves temporarily in order to delay the pain.”

“Delay?” Potter’s eyes boggled.

“You’re such a baby. I’ll give you another healing potion after we’re done for pain relief.” Before Potter could protest, Draco put the salve on his hand and pressed it against Potter’s heart. It was beating so loudly, speeding up as Draco touched it. When the salve covered the skin, he took out a small knife. “It’ll just be a few quick incisions. You can close your eyes if you want.”

“I’m brave,” Potter said. Right. Gryffindors had no sense of self-preservation. That’s probably why Potter was still here, letting Draco press a knife against his heart. Draco cut open the skin and took out a green paste. “This is a linking serum. I’ll use it to link your heart to your mouth. Then you can vocalize your heart’s essence, and I can collect it.” He reached into the cavern in Potter’s chest and spread the green paste over Potter’s heart. Damn it, it matched the git’s eyes.

He stuck his hand back in the paste jar and pressed his fingers against Potter’s lips. Potter really could do with some lip balm. His lips were so cracked and dry. His hand was still on Potter’s lips. He flushed, quickly removing it.

“Now it’s set,” Draco leaned back, clearing his head and taking out a vial. “All I have to do is collect the heart essence in this. And here is the hard part. Wasn’t sure you wanted him here for this,” he gestured towards the ghost.

“I can leave,” Nick shrugged. “I need to tell the Friar about my new position in the hunt, after all. I’m sure after this operation it will be all but guaranteed.”

“Sir Nicholas—” Potter called out, but the ghost was gone.

“Trust me, you’d prefer this. I mean, you don’t want me knowing this, but at least you could obliviate me later . You can’t obliviate a ghost.”

“I’m not going to obliviate you!” Potter’s eyebrows wrinkled and he looked upset.

“Whatever,” Draco shrugged. “You just need to be emotionally vulnerable. You could just compliment me, that usually works.”

“I’m not going to compliment you, Malfoy,” Potter snorted. “Nice try.”

“Fine,” Draco knew Potter would make this difficult. “Tell me a secret?”

Potter stayed quiet.

“I know you have one. I’m sure there’s something about you so secret, you can’t even tell your friends. Just share something emotional that would make your heart spark, and we’ll be done here.”

They both sat in silence. Potter opened and shut his mouth a couple of times.

“I’m gay,” Potter said quietly. The vial filled up quickly with shimmering green particles flying from Potter’s mouth. It was hard to be subtle when you were coated in serums.

“Thanks, Potter. You can go now, if you’d like. I can brew the rest myself.”

“What do you mean?” Potter almost sounded angry. “I tell you that, and you’re just quiet? Are you going to tell all your friends? Call the Daily Prophet after I leave?”

“No, I’m not going to do any of that. I’m not going to tell anyone.” And the funny thing was, Draco didn’t want to tell anyone. Probably before today he would have used any chance to ridicule stupid pretentious Potter, but he couldn’t, not after today.

“Why not?” Potter asked quietly, staring at Draco, confused. Draco couldn’t answer. Instead, he dropped the vial in the cauldron with the rest of the ingredients, stirring the mixture over high heat.

“You were always too good at potions,” Potter said ruefully. “I used to think it was just Snape’s favouritism, but you really have a knack for it.”

“Er, thanks,” Draco blinked. “When I was little, I used to make pretend potions. I couldn’t wait to learn them for real.”

The pair sat in silence as Draco stirred the potion. “Now, I just need to let it rest while we wait for Sir Nicholas. Here, take this pain relief potion and I’ll unfreeze your nerves.” He handed the vial to Potter, and the boy chugged it quickly.

“I need to stitch your chest back up,” Draco said, taking out a needle and thread. 

“Sure,” Potter said. At this point, he couldn’t really say no, or he’d be left with a hole in his chest.

Draco hoisted himself up on the desk next to Potter and put a hand on his chest. He was warm, it was weird to touch him. He tried to still himself and held up the needle. Potter sucked in a breath. The stitches were quick. Hopefully painless. Potter avoided eye contact. Draco felt like they were sharing a moment, something unspoken when their skin pressed against each other.

Why did Potter tell him he was gay? And why hadn’t he told anyone else? The heart essence only worked when you were opening up your heart for the first time, which meant that he wasn’t sharing with his stupid friends who he liked. They certainly wouldn’t care, so why?

Before Draco could dwell on it further, Sir Nicholas returned.

“Hello!” The ghost smiled, “Was it successful? The Friar was quite excited for me.”

Draco siphoned the potion into a vial. “Yes, it’s ready. It’s topical, I can put it on your neck.”

“Any second now,” Sir Nicholas said, his head dropping to the side. Draco applied the potion on the inch of skin on his neck. It wasn’t like Potter at all. Sir Nicholas was cold and lifeless. As the potion touched his skin, it was filled with pigment and life again.

“Are you ready?” Draco held the knife up against Sir Nicholas’s neck.

“Malfoy, are you sure you can do this?”

“Relax, Potter, he’s already dead. Besides, if I let you kill him, you won’t be able to sleep tonight. Let me take this off your conscience —”

“—I’m ready,” Sir Nicholas said. Draco sawed through the last inch of his neck. As his knife cut through, the ghost disappeared.

“Where did he go?” Potter shouted furiously. “What did you do? I knew you were up to something! ” Potter shoved Draco against the wall and grabbed him by the robe.

“No, the plan should’ve worked!” Draco grabbed Potter’s hand and twisted his wrist, trying to untangle it from his robe. “We did everything perfectly! Unless, unless-” he thought about his grandfather, who had remained a ghost until his wife had also passed. He stayed silent, thinking through the theory.

“You can’t just say ‘unless’, you prat!” Potter snapped.

“Unless he remained a ghost because he was nearly headless! Maybe, by making him truly headless, he could finally move on!”

“You think he’s gone, like gone  _ on _ ?” Potter said, letting go of Malfoy’s robe.

“Yes,” Draco said, looking at Potter. He still couldn’t get it out of his head that Potter was  _ gay _ . This skinny git had damn fine abs, and for some reason he wasn’t telling people that he liked blokes. Well, the blokes of Hogwarts were missing out.

Why wasn’t Draco telling anyone Potter’s secret? He could easily embarrass him. Then again, it wouldn’t look good if Potter shared Draco’s illegal potion-making. A secret for a secret never hurt anyone.

Draco thought back to Pansy and Blaise dancing. These flashbacks weren’t helping. How come everyone in this school had a dance partner except him?

“Potter, will you go to the Yule Ball with me?” He hadn’t meant to ask at first, but Potter had helped him out here, and Draco believed in reciprocating. 

Potter looked upset again, and Draco didn’t know why he was so good at messing good things up. “You prat, I didn’t tell you that so you could make fun of me, although I’m not surprised you’d use that as an insult. I thought maybe we were turning things around here. I guess I was wrong.” Draco could see the disappointment in his eyes. He didn’t know why he even asked. “I’m going with Parvati.”

“Why? You’re not even into her?” Draco asked in shock. He couldn’t even respond to Potter,  _ You have the completely wrong idea. I’m also gay, and confused, and I wasn’t making fun of you for once. _

“I’m not going with a bloke to a dance where everyone’s going to stare at me, okay? If you want to be stared at so badly, ask Krum!”

“Har har,” Draco frowned.

“You know why,” Potter put his shirt back on. “Thanks for helping Nick, though. Even if it didn’t turn out perfectly, he’s probably in a better place now. He didn’t need some pretentious pureblood ghost association anyway.”

“Thanks, Potter,” Draco hated himself for saying it. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first real fic? Very exciting. I literally owe everything and beyond to my beta @crazybutgood who caught every silly and serious error I made writing this in the middle of the night.
> 
> Also thank you for the word count I was assigned, otherwise, this thing might have gone on for chapters.


End file.
